One Whiff of a Barmaid's Apron
by Rainchild
Summary: In response to the prompt "Arthur/Merlin - Wherein Merlin is a cheap date, and catches one whiff of a barmaid's apron." Arthur and Merlin pre-slash/friendship.


**Title:** One Whiff of a Barmaid's Apron  
**Author:** Rainchild  
**Word Count:** 1423  
**Pairing:** Arthur and Merlin pre-slash/friendship.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Spoilers:** Episodes 1-11  
**Summary:** Written in response to the prompt "Arthur/Merlin - Wherein Merlin is a cheap date, and catches one whiff of a barmaid's apron."  
**A/N:** Thanks to gregisamazing for the beta.

Growing up, Merlin had spent an inordinate amount of time being teased, all because he couldn't hold his liquor. It was hardly fair, he couldn't help being skinny. Besides, Merlin held up better than Catherine, who got tipsy after half a mug of beer. But no one compared him to Catherine. They compared him to Will and Tanner and Edgar, who could drink all night and not let it show. And certainly not pass out, not that Merlin had ever done that. He had just decided it was a really good time to fall asleep.

There were actually only one or two incidents, when it came down to it. The broken table had been a result of his magic, not of his clumsiness, so Merlin didn't really count that one. That was another injustice, besides being underweight. Most people just had to worry about their mouth and all those limbs. Merlin had to worry about his magic, too. With all the extra thought required to keep accidental magic at bay, it was no wonder Merlin tended to slur his words a bit more than average.

So when Merlin left Ealdor, he was looking forward to a jibe-free existence that included no alcohol whatsoever. It was hardly his fault that Gaius brought out the good wine in celebration of Merlin saving the day (the first time). In fact, it was entirely Arthur's fault that Merlin downed half the bottle, trying to pretend he hadn't just been made _manservant_ to the World's Biggest Prat. Ever.

But Gaius was a good friend, and Merlin trusted him never to tell a soul.

"Gaius has a big mouth. And, Arthur, I _do not_ start singing like a sailor when I catch one whiff of a barmaid's apron."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Merlin. Plenty of people, well, girls actually, can't hold their liquor." Which was a rather excellent point, one that Merlin had tried to make multiple times before.

"I can too hold my liquor." Merlin cringed, because that hadn't sounded quite so childish in his head. Merlin didn't give himself any points for that.

"So there's some other reason you didn't have any of the wine Gaius packed when we went to Ealdor?" Arthur raised one eyebrow expectantly.

Arthur almost had Merlin stumped, but not quite. "It wouldn't be proper for me to drink the wine. Not when you and Morgana were enjoying yourselves. There wasn't very much, you know. And I _am_ just a servant." Merlin smirked.

"That's funny, it didn't stop Gwen." Damn Arthur and his superior facial expressions.

"Well… ladies first." Merlin tallied up the score for this conversation and concluded that he was winning.

"Morgana's right, you are quite the gentleman. Or, I believe, 'lover' was the exact quote."

Merlin sputtered. "Me? Morgana? Lover?"

"No, Merlin, you're far too much of an idiot to be Morgana's lover. I think you'll be forever doomed to one-sided puppy love."

Merlin chalked a point up to Arthur, but only grudgingly so because, really, that was a sneaky trick.

"I suppose the only way we'll solve this is to get you drunk." And suddenly Merlin forgot all about points and the score because Arthur was _still_ teasing him about the flower Gwen had given him and that had been _ages_ ago. Arthur certainly didn't need any fresh ammunition.

"No, absolutely not. You're the crown prince, and I'm just your humble servant. You can't be seen buying me drinks, you said so yourself." Merlin had a very good memory and no qualms about using it to throw Arthur's words back in his face.

"Exactly, I am the crown prince, and I demand that you get drunk for my amusement. But you're right, I can't be seen buying you drinks. You can buy them yourself."

In the end, Arthur decided it wouldn't be proper to go traipsing into a dirty bar in the lower city with his very-much-beneath-his-notice manservant. So instead he ordered mulled wine to be brought up to his chambers, assuring Merlin that the wine would be docked from his wagese. (Merlin would have protested had he not been sure that Arthur would "forget" by the end of the week, just like he had with the shirt that had caught on fire in a way that was Totally and Completely unrelated to Merlin.)

Arthur dragged a second chair into the room (or rather, he ordered Merlin to drag a second chair into the room), filled two glasses with mulled wine, and sat down (in the comfortable chair).

"Bottoms up, Merlin," Arthur toasted before knocking back the glass in one gulp.

Merlin reached for his glass and took a sip.

"Merlin…" Arthur said, and whiny really didn't suit him.

Merlin made a put-upon sigh and tipped the glass back.

To his credit, Arthur didn't start laughing until after Merlin had stopped choking and was no longer about to _die_ of _asphyxiation_.

"Merlin, please tell me you _have_ had alcohol before."

"Of course!" said Merlin indignantly. "Ale! Lots of ale. All the time. With absolutely no effect."

"Merlin, you're _red_. You're red, and you've only had one glass of _wine_."

"I am _flushed_ because I just _chocked_. I almost _died_," Merlin knocked his fist against the table with each word so that Arthur would understand better. Especially the part about him dying. Which Arthur should be more sympathetic to, what with the Mortaeus flower and all.

"Merlin," said Arthur, his smile far too amused. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." _Just a bit hot_, he thought. "Just a bit hot," he said. Which was odd because usually words went through a little filter in Merlin's mind before going out his mouth, and he was pretty sure those words had forgotten a step.

"Well, so long as you're feeling fine, we can have another glass." Merlin wondered if Arthur's grin could be classified as "evil" yet.

Arthur filled both their glasses and knocked his back again, the smug bastard that he was. Merlin had learned his lesson and, furthermore, had very cleverly discerned Arthur's murderous intent, so he slowly sipped his drink this time.

"Merlin, you are _such_ a girl."

"Which, of course, is why Morgana thinks I'm a 'lover.'" It was really quite funny, now that he thought about it, so Merlin let out a manly laugh. Which may have actually been a giggle.

"Well," said Arthur sagely, "some girls are into that sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?" Merlin asked, and Arthur took advantage of Merlin's distraction to fill his glass again.

"You. Sensitive guys. _Girly_ guys."

Merlin didn't think it was fair that Arthur got off calling him girly when Arthur was the one with pretty blond hair, luxurious eyelashes, and brooding eyes. Luckily, Merlin's brain-filter seemed to be working again, and he said instead, "You're just jealous that Morgana doesn't think _you're_ a lover."

"Jealous? For Morgana? Hardly."

"Come on," Merlin said with a grin. "Morgana or Gwen?"

"What!" Merlin was glad to see Arthur looking uncomfortable since the awkward moments had been entirely too one-sided thus far. "Future kings do not play this game," Arthur said in his I-am-sooo-much-more-important-than-you voice.

"Just for fun. Morgana or Gwen." Merlin tilted his head. "Or Lancelot," he added with a giggle, and he _really_ needed to get the brain-filter working again.

"_Lancelot?_" Arthur had gone bug-eyed.

"I just…" Merlin gestured helplessly. "Because I asked Gwen, you or Lancelot-"

"Enough! I don't need to know." Arthur was amusing when he looked terrified.

"Well, she said neither, so I guess you're not that impressive," Merlin informed Arthur.

"That is a complete lie. Did you _see_ the way she looked at Lancelot?" Arthur immediately looked horrified. "Forget it, I don't need to know about the love lives of my knights."

"It's okay. We're friends. We can gossip about the knights behind their backs," Merlin reached to pat Arthur on the arm but may have mostly gotten the table instead.

Arthur looked horrified. "We are _not_ friends. _You_ are my servant."

"Uh huh," nodded Merlin happily. "Because people always get their servants drunk."

"You realize that if you were sober I would put you in the stocks," Arthur said sternly.

"But since I'm drunk, you'll admit we're friends?" Merlin gave Arthur a brilliant smile.

"Merlin…" said Arthur carefully. "When you get drunk, do you usually remember it the next morning?"

Merlin thought about Arthur's question for a few minutes. "Not if I've had a lot to drink, no."

"Here," said Arthur with a forced smile. "Let me pour you another glass."


End file.
